And Then Came the Thunder
by Still Bullet
Summary: He woke up to find everything he knew was gone in the explosion, including them, his friends...but someone kept telling him they were alive. That couldn't be. One-Shot


_Ahh yes. I've been wanting to do a story like this for a while. It's funny...I got the inspiration for this because of the wacky weather we've been having. Every day for the past week, except for about two days ago, we've just been having thunders storms. It'd do that for a little while, then it'd be sunny out like nothing happened. One of the thunder storms not too long ago made me want to write this. I guess the title kind of lets you know. I waited a little while, however, and wrote this at about 10:30pm on Saturday. Next thing I know it's past midnight and I was just about done with the story. _

_I want to keep the story mysterious, so I won't say anything about the plot until the end. This was another writing experiment, I must say--normally my sentances are packed, but this time I kept them short and brief. I also wanted to try a mysterious atmosphere along with keeping the reader thinking. Let me know what you think! And thank you, everyone, for your reviews. They're what keeps me going, and I can't tell you how grateful I am for them._

**_Based on: Half-Life 2: Episodes One and Two (Valve. This story takes place between the two.)  
Rating: T. I used language that might offend some people (like "god damn"), and I would like to appologize immediatly for that. I hate cursing and didn't want to use such words to express the anger of the characters, so my choices were limited to that only. I hate saying offending things about religion, even though I'm not religious myself, but it was neccessary. Other than that, there's some silght blood in this story, but nothing bad at all.  
Author's Notes: While this story hit about four and a half pages on Word, it's only something over 1,500 words. I just used line breaks a lot._**

**_--_**

"We can grab another train once you're clear."

He knew he shouldn't have let them do that. He just knew it. Something in his gut just kept bugging him, and yet he gave them the ok.

"Ok then…don't take too long about it, yeah?"

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He was already feeling terrible letting them go on their own, but…he should have stayed with them. He _really_ should have stayed with them.

The sound of loud bangs, alarms, echoes of deathly calls, and then the sound of thunder. "Oh my god," he thought aloud to himself. He had no idea what was about to happen, but it sure as hell didn't look good. He ran inside, pulse-rifle held with one hand with the other pointing to the dangers the train was trying desperately to leave behind.

"Everybody hang on!" He could barely shout above the sounds that battled with him. "The citadel's about to—"

A blinding flash of white light, and then the sound of screams. The feel of his body crashing towards the floor, and then the pain of his head took everything over.

--

"Did you find him yet?" A distance call, an echo in his head, something his mind was making up.

"Nope! Found some other citizens, but not him!"

Voices…he could barely make them out, but they were voices, and they weren't a mind trick. But maybe they were. He heard the voices calling his name, over and over, calling for others, but mainly for him.

His head ached as he felt something ooze onto his cheek. Maybe he wasn't dead. But how would he know if he was? Death could have feelings. Death could have voices. Inside your head or not.

"Hey…hey, I found him!"

Then the warmth of light hit against his cheek.

"Oh Jesus…he's a wreck. Hey, wake up!"

Something nudged at him, his limp body. What were those? Angels? Devils?

He can't go to hell. He was the good guy in this. He shouldn't die now, he wasn't that young. If only the good really did die young, then he would have been long gone by now.

"Barney…er, uh, Mister Calhoun! Wake up, please!"

An automatic moan and a slight turn of his head was all he could manage.

"Are there any medics over there?" It called out for someone, something, for some reason.

"Yeah, I'm on it!" Footsteps came towards him with a quick pace. Something placed itself on his arm.

"Come on, Calhoun."

This was Black Mesa all over again. He could just feel a Bullsquid tearing his ribs out right now. He could just see another one of his colleagues, dead beside him, suffering the same horrible fate.

"Is he…is he—"

"No, he's breathing. He bleeding, but breathing."

A flash of a face—unknown yet somehow familiar—passed by his eyelids. Then darkness followed.

"Well, he seems to be fine. He _was _at the end of the train, however, so he might have gotten hit with debris, or something. Come on, Barney, let us know you're alright."

A gasp for air, a twitch of fingers, and then a sigh. The darkness slowly crept away as faces surrounded him.

"Ahh…there we go, come on."

Muscles tightened, pain surged, and he could slowly feel himself push upwards. Onto his elbows, his eyes now open as much as they would let him, breath entering his lungs.

"What…" His throat rumbled as he realized he was the one that let out the word of confusion. Someone smiled in front of him.

"It's ok, Mister Calhoun, don't worry." Her eyes showed some kind of hope. Hope doesn't exist in death, so he knew that life was still somewhere in his veins.

"The Citadel blew when you were telling us to take cover." The other face continued what Hope-Eyes hadn't finished. "Ironically enough, we all made it out fine, but you got hit with something or another. That did quite a number on you for a while, apparently."

He rubbed his head as he tried to figure out what this guy was talking about. Something still dripped down his cheek. Blood appeared on his—now tattered—glove, as he tried to wipe it off.

"Damn it," he muttered to himself. The two faces looked at him, reaching out a hand.

"Here," Hope-Eyes told him. "Let's get you up." He grabbed the two hands that offered help, as he was slowly dragged to his feet. Somehow or another, he could stand on his own, and his mind finally began to clear.

"Oh no."

He shifted his vision towards the direction they had came from—where he thought that was, anyway.

"Oh god. Oh no."

It was gone. Everything was gone. The Citadel, the city, everything was gone, gone, _gone_.  
_They_ were gone. Alyx and Gordon. They were gone, totally gone, this can't happen.

"This can't _happen_!"

Weak legs ran for the distance, shouting cries of friends now lost.

"Gordon! Alyx! Please tell me you're all right!" Silence screamed back at him, so painful that he could feel his ears beginning to bleed.

"Barney! Barney, please!" Someone shouted his name, but that didn't matter, nothing did. He stopped, stood there, looking at the destruction and the ghosts of the past.

"Barney, it's ok! Everything's ok!"

This had to be death. This just couldn't happen. He _had _to be dead, that was the only reason why Gordon and Alyx weren't here.

He thought he felt a tear roll down his cheek. But that can't happen, either—he doesn't cry, he never cries.

"They can't be gone." He just muttered it, eyes still widened, blood still flowing, muscles still shaking. "They just _can't _be gone!"

"And just what makes you think that?" He didn't know who said that, but they had way too much false hope. "They're alive, Barney! If there's one thing about Doctor Freeman, it's that nothing can kill him! I'm sure he and Miss Vance are totally fine."

A glare was shot back at the voice, piercing its body like a sniper's bullet.

"Are you god damn _kidding me_?!" He was screaming. Screaming his lungs out. "Don't you see that? Don't tell me you can't see that! Everything is gone, god damn it, _gone_! The entire city—all of City Seventeen, everything that surrounds it, it's now wiped clean off the Earth!"

Breathing hard, now. Sweat flowing, now. Blood boiling in his veins.

"You can't honestly believe that, can you?"

Oh god. Hope-Eyes was at it again. "Bar…Mister Calhoun, can you really believe that Miss Vance and Doctor Freeman are dead? You know them more than any of us, and I'm sure that somewhere inside you, you know for certain that they're alive and well. Your mind's just contradicting yourself. Please, Mister Calhoun, think!"

He raised his hand and pulled his index finger, expecting his pulse-rifle to silence everyone and everything that entered his mind. But his blind rage refused to notice that he wasn't holding anything. He was shooting Hope-Eyes with nothing but air, expecting her to fall to her knees.

Something in his mind snapped for a second. What if she's right? Gordon and Alyx were gone an entire week, and they were still fine. They were inside the Citadel when it did its first explosion to hell, and they were fine. They had to be fine now.

He lowered his invisible gun. Arms limply fell to his sides. He felt like bawling. The tears just kept pouring out of his eyes. He could feel his chin quiver as he felt whimpers escape from his mouth.

Hope-Eyes looked shock. Everyone else just stared blankly. No emotion, no idea what to do. They all just stood there. Except Hope-Eyes. She moved closer, saying soothing words. She tried to calm him down. Whether or not she was succeeding was something neither of them could figure out.

"See? You know that you believe they're not dead." He sure-as-hell hoped he really thought that, too. They were alive. They _had _to be alive. Gordon made it through Black Mesa, twenty years of hell without the gang, and this. Alyx learned to live and survive through all of this. She even grew up in it. They cheated this death, somehow or another. They did. They just _did_. He didn't know how, but they did.

"Alright." His voice didn't quiver, but it was so silent that Hope-Eyes just stared at him with confusion. He looked up at her, trying to force a smile past the tears and the blood. "You're right." Voice speaking higher, now, more confident. "I'm sure they're fine."

Everyone smiled. Not just Hope-Eyes, _everyone_. He sniffed as he tried to hold back any more sadness that leaked through. Gordon and Alyx were fine. He just kept telling himself that. Gordon and Alyx…were _fine_.

Somebody walked over to him and held out a pulse-rifle. It didn't matter if it was his or not, he was glad to be holding something against his trigger finger. It felt ironic to him. Just a second ago he tried to kill the people he helped save, and now they're offering a gun to him.

Huh.

He gave everyone a smile. Everything was alright. Combine, destruction, end of the world or not, everything was just fine. It always turned out fine. It would always _be _fine.

He made a quick glance towards Hope-Eyes. "Thank you." It just sort of slipped out, but Hope-Eyes seemed happy to get it. She shot back a smile, along with a nod.

_Stay alive, bud. It ain't over 'til it's over._

_--_

_Funny how different this was from my original idea. I think it's kind of obvious that Barney's train was well out of harm's way, yet for some reason I made Barney get hit anyway. Originally, the train was to have stopped at some random train station, and the group was to watch the events from afar, with Barney showing his sad emotions. So much for that; I guess I change my ideas quite a lot when it comes to writing them after it stays stuck in my head for so long. Thanks for reading!_


End file.
